Review by New York Times Review
"THE LINES AND VERSES are only the outward garments of the poem. ... The real poem is the soul within them." So says L.M. Montgomery's beloved Anne of Green Gables, insisting that she can call a picture a poem. If that is true, then certainly the wordless picture book is visual poetry. An artist of a wordless picture book must be meticulous, carefully using the tools of color and composition to elicit an emotional experience just as a poet uses words. Marla Frazee's "The Farmer and the Clown" accomplishes this lofty goal beautifully. It's a simple story: A child clown is marooned and then rescued by a farmer, who watches him until the clown's family returns. But the poetry lies in the story-telling, not in the story line. The book opens in a subdued landscape with the grim farmer, whose displeasure is evident when he's obliged to rescue the young clown thrown from a passing circus train. At first, the farmer and the clown seem in stark contrast. The young clown is dressed in a red one-piece, with a relentlessly cheerful, painted smile, while the old, bent-over farmer has stark black overalls and an unchanging, glum face. But when it is time to wash up, the farmer sheds his black and white clothes and reveals a red one-piece of his own. The clown's painted smile is wiped off, revealing that the child's face is actually sorrowful. The emotional resonance of that single mirroring scene is extraordinary. In fact the entire book, with Frazee's perfect pacing of images and use of negative space, light and shadow, is true poetry. As the two slowly bond (with the clown sharing in the work of the farm and the farmer attempting tricks to amuse the child), the book's title itself becomes a kind of wordplay - for truly, which of the characters is the farmer and which is the clown? Like the best poems, the book leaves the reader thinking long after it has closed. In "Fox's Garden," by Princesse Camcam, a fox searches for shelter on a winter night. After the fox has found refuge in a greenhouse, a watching boy sneaks out of his bedroom to bring her a basket of food and receives an unexpected thank-you gift. The book has breathtaking and unusual illustrations (cut-paper, lit and then photographed dioramas). Unfortunately, it falters in its poetic attempt. Like a haiku, the color palette of this book is restrained. Only the foxes and the boy are fully colored, while the white landscape has fine blue-gray line work to articulate the details. The warm glow of the lighting not only gives the artwork a delicate three-dimensional quality but also helps evoke the chills of a winter night. But as with miscounted meter, even the most lovely of illustrations cannot hide the design flaw of the last few spreads of the book: The focal points of the pictures are nearly indiscernible, swallowed up by the book's gutter. It's especially regrettable that the climactic spread, the pages that should trigger the most emotional response (the great reveal of the fox's gift to the boy), is spoiled by book mechanics. If "Fox's Garden" is like a haiku, then "Hunters of the Great Forest," by Dennis Nolan, and "Draw!," by Raúl Colón, are perhaps more like epic poems. "Hunters of the Great Forest" is almost a traditional hero's-journey story, as a group of tiny hunters travel in search of their surprising and funny prize. There is a whimsical, fairy-tale feeling to the art, which is reminiscent of Johnny Gruelle's classic Raggedy Ann books. The cunning, red-nosed characters are captivating; one of the most exciting spreads of the book features the creatures simply creeping in a darkened vista with their elongated shadows attached to them like black insects. But the book's greatest charm and poetic achievement is in offering a new point of view. The detailed world of these bug-size creatures is immediately enveloping; readers will nervously begin to imagine dangers in the textures of the tree bark. The frightening realities of being minuscule in a big world are, however, counterbalanced by the great joys of a small pleasure at the end (no spoiler here!). "Draw!" tells of a journey as well: the inward journey of an artist's creativity. A young boy, alone in his room except for his book about Africa and some art supplies (and medicine on the side table, hinting at a stuck-in-bed illness), begins to draw. He is soon transported into his imagination, and as he becomes engrossed in his fantasy African world, Colón's loose pen-and-ink sketches transform into fully rendered pictures. These images are rich and glowing; one can almost feel the warmth of the sun and the nubby fur of the giraffes. Yet the delicately scratched lines and texture of the colored pencil on paper never let the viewer forget the artist's hand, creating a lyrical balance of fantasy and reality that is ideal for a book celebrating artistic expression. The book's theme of the power of art to befriend, pacify and inspire, while not unique, is still a poignant one. In an author's note, Colón recalls his own childhood memories of drawing alone in his room. By illustrating this actual experience with sketchy lines that contrast greatly with the fully rendered images of his fantasy, Colón suggests what many artists, writers and, of course, poets know in their own lives: an imaginary world even more fully realized than reality. GRACE LIN is the author and illustrator of many books, including "Where the Mountain Meets the Moon," a Newbery Honor winner. Her new book, "Ling and Ting: Twice as Silly," will be published in November.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 5, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review
A boy in bed, asthma inhaler within reach, sketchbook at his side, looking at a book about Africa, is not confined by the walls of his room. As he begins to draw, he takes a journey. The palette changes from subdued pen-and-ink with wash in the bedroom to vibrant hues textured with scratched-in lines that seem to pulse, capturing the landscape and animals of Africa. On this wordless art safari, based on Colon's own childhood imaginings, first up is the elephant. This fellow is so pleased with the boy's portrait of him that he then accompanies the boy on his hunt. They spot a zeal of zebras (one watches as the boy creates) and a pride of lions. A charging rhinoceros is calmed when shown a sketch of himself made just in the nick of time! Youngsters will pore over each spread in wonder, soaking up the details. Upon his return, the traveling artist shares his pictures with his classmates. A true celebration of where our imaginations can take us.--McDermott, Jeanne Copyright 2014 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In Colon's (Baseball Is...) wordless fantasy, a boy lies on his bed, his sketchbook on the floor; he's lost in a large book titled Africa. As he takes up his sketchbook and begins to draw, small full-color panels of himself setting off across the African veldt sail forth from his mind like thought balloons. On the next page, he's entered his fantasy fully; he's in the African grasslands, carrying his drawing supplies and waving to a nearby elephant. After obligingly allowing its portrait to be drawn, the elephant carries the boy to meet other animals who pose for him-zebras, giraffes, and hippos. A rhinoceros portrait ends in near-calamity; a gang of baboons draw the boy. After a tender goodbye to the elephant, another series of sunlit panels retreats into the boy's head as he returns to real life. Colon's visual signature is the use of finely combed lines to trace the contours of his figures, a technique that's at once delicate and sensuous. It's a strongly developed and executed account of a childhood fantasy, urging all young artists to dream and to draw. Ages 4-8. Agency: Morgan Gaynin Inc. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
PreS-Gr 3-Based on the Afro-Puerto Rican artist's childhood, beloved and award-winning illustrator Colón's wordless work, created with watercolor and colored pencils, depicts a sickly boy who uses his creativity to escape the confines of his bed. Traveling through his drawings to Africa, the boy makes friends with the animals he encounters. © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
A young artist, inspired by his books about African animals, is transported to an imaginary safari in this dreamy wordless book. Armed only with his pencil, sketch pad, and easel, this budding Leonardo finds his models in the African landscape--an elephant, zebras, giraffes, lions, gorillas (one of whom snatches the boy's pith helmet and lunch)--and all willing to pose. He has some adventures--a rhino charges him but is quickly placated when the boy shows it (from the safe distance of a tree branch) the portrait he drew. Then a group of baboons take the boy's drawing implements and turn the tables by sketching him (and it's not a terribly flattering portrait!). Ultimately he ends up back in his own bedroom, surrounded by the books that inspired him and the sketches we saw him make on his safari. The story line is engaging and easy to follow, and, while it's whimsical, the majesty of the animals comes through in both the boy's sketches and the main illustrations. Colon's pen-and-ink, watercolor, colored-pencil, and lithograph pencil pictures are nicely textured and tinged with golden hues. A final illustration shows the boy sharing his artwork in a class presentation; an appended author's note describes Colon's "aha moment" for the book. kathleen t. horning (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A wordless picture book celebrates the power of art and imagination. A little boy reads about Africa and then creates his own adventures with his pencils and paints. Wordless books require readers to slow down and read the pictures, and careful children will see beyond the main storyline by looking at the whole illustration. Why is the boy in bed and not outside? The inhaler and bottle of medicine on the side table are hints. But binoculars and an umbrella on the other side of the table tell them that he is not always bedridden. As he draws, he falls deeply into the rich world of his imaginary Africa. First he draws an elephant, and then he rides away on it. He paints zebras, has a sandwich for lunch, records a giraffe stampede and shares one of his many other sandwiches with the gorillas. After a hair-raising encounter with an aggressive rhino, the little artist shares his pencils and food with other primates, who return the favor and sketch him. Coln's signature scratched-watercolor technique adds richness and emotion to this warm story, but it's the framing scenes at beginning and end that really sparkle here. Simple line-and-color washes put the young man at the center of the story and help readers identify with him. Young artists, reach for your sketchbooks. (Picture book. 4-8) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
